Memorial(59)

When I settled my head into the pillow beside his, smoothing my ears against the linen, Eiju asked why I didn’t just sleep in the same futon, to minimize his risk to the maximum.



* * *





You think it’s a game, I said. But it’s not. Not even a little bit.

Eiju’s head leaned against my feet. He kept his eyes closed on the wood.

You don’t get it, he said. That’s exactly what this is. All of this is a game. It’s all a losing match.

And nobody wins, said Eiju. We all lose. That’s the point.



* * *





I called Kunihiko to say we were closing the bar for the week.

Until we figure out what we’re going to do, I said.

He was silent for so long that I wondered if the line had been cut.

And what are we going to do, he said.

I told him I didn’t know, in as honest a voice as I could.

You’ve said that already, said Kunihiko.

What?

That you didn’t know. That you don’t know. But never mind, I get it.

And then he hung up.



* * *





One morning, Natsue visited the apartment. She brought a breakfast bento sealed with plastic wrap. When I answered the door, Eiju was still sleeping, so she and I stood in his bedroom doorway, watching his chest rise and fall.

Thank you, I said, and Natsue glanced my way.

He’s a dear friend, she said. One of my oldest.

Yeah, I said. But not just for that. For not freaking out about me. Being his son.

Ah, said Natsue.

She smiled, just a little bit.

I always knew, she said.

You did?

Of course. Eiju couldn’t keep a secret at gunpoint.

Does anyone else, I asked, but Natsue only shrugged at that.

I think that everyone knows exactly how much they need to know, she said.

We took the food back out to the sofa. I loafed around in sweatpants, while Natsue tugged at her blazer. Cross-legged on the sofa, she asked how I was holding up.

He’s all right, I said. Considering.

Not your father, said Natsue. You.

I’m good.

Just good?

Just good. I’m not the sick one.

That doesn’t mean you’re good, said Natsue.

I’ll be fine, I said.

Sure, said Natsue. You better be.

But check in if you aren’t, she said.



* * *





One afternoon, Takeshi and Hiro visited the apartment. Sana was home with his kids, but his friends brought a six-pack from 7-Eleven. Standing in our apartment, slipping off their shoes, they acquainted themselves with Eiju’s living room as he slept, gawking at the walls, and then the sofa, looking like a couple of boys.

The beers are for you, said Takeshi.

We didn’t know if Eiju could drink, said Hiro, but we figured you might need it.

I asked them to stick around so we could kill the pack in the living room. And they declined, vehemently, before sitting down—until they ended up drinking three apiece, bitching and laughing and fucking around, and I hardly had to talk at all.



* * *





And then, that night, Kunihiko visited.

I expected some awkwardness between us, and it was still there when he stepped through the doorway. It was his first time in Eiju’s place. Kunihiko tugged at his fingers, and I told him not to be so surprised, and he tried to make a scowl. He wandered around the living room, and then into the kitchen, taking these big-ass steps. He’d look my way, and he’d start to open his mouth, but nothing came out. And I wasn’t about to help him get comfortable. And then, just as things were getting ridiculous, Eiju emerged from the bedroom.

He looked at Kunihiko. He asked what the fuck was wrong.

Nothing, said Kunihiko.

Exactly, said Eiju. Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. So stop looking so scared.

Okay, said Kunihiko, and he looked at me, and I shrugged.

The three of us stood in the living room. Eiju scratched his ass.

How about you two make yourselves fucking useful and cook us some rice, he said, dropping onto the sofa.

So that’s what Kunihiko and I did, standing silently beside the sink.



* * *





When we made it back to the living room, Eiju was already snoring. So Kunihiko and I sat on the floor across from each other, slipping bitefuls into our mouths.



* * *





I cooked for Eiju. I cleaned the apartment. I walked from one end of our block to the other and I wandered around Kuromon Market and I ate lunch at the curry spot behind the complex and I caught the local line to Umeda and one day I didn’t ride it back, I figured I’d walk the entire way back to the apartment. Osaka isn’t large. It would’ve only taken a few hours. But it was cold as shit. My sneakers hugged the edge of the curb. Halfway through, I gave up, and I found a local station, but the train platform I took was headed the opposite way, I realized once I was already on it, and I felt spent, just fucking done, so I knocked out in my seat after like fifteen seconds.

By the time I woke up, I was halfway across the city. A thick guy in shorts and Jordans sat across from me, looking a little spooked when I woke up. We spent the rest of the ride pretending not to check each other out, until he finally got off, throwing a final glance my way, and then I really was alone.